Of All Things
by Essex Cole
Summary: A collection of oneshots inspired by single words, going through the entire alphabet. No pairing is repeated; there will be something for everyone here.


**AN: So yeah. This is just a casual little project I started up kind of on a dare. It won't be regularly updated or anything, this is just the kind of thing to keep the writer's block away. Each chapter is based on a letter and a word, going consecutively through the alphabet.**

**anyway in this they're like thirty or something**

**Cromas**

The waiting wasn't the worst part. Certainly, it was painful—the watching of the clock antagonized Thomas in such a way that he often tried to sleep the hours away—but it was still outdone. No, it wasn't the slow passing of time that was really ruining Thomas... It was the knowing.

Knowing exactly where his husband was. Knowing what he was doing. Knowing who he was doing it with…and knowing the real meanings of things like "Business trip" and "The meeting is running over, don't wait up."

So when the door opened and Craig finally sauntered in, it wasn't a feeling of guilty relief that washed over Thomas. Instead, he felt sickened and maybe somewhat panicked.

"Hey—sorry I'm so late. But I had an important meeting—"

"Yeah, yeah, of course you did," Thomas said wearily, letting out a curse word despite himself. Mostly, he had grown out of his Tourette's syndrome, but it still got to him when he felt stressed.

Craig's eyes narrowed slightly. "It almost sounds like you don't believe me," he said, watching Thomas closely.

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't." Thomas stood with his empty soda can and headed for the kitchen. "Dinner's in the fridge," he said over his shoulder.

But it wasn't long before Craig had slipped in front of Thomas, frowning and blocking the hallway. "What do you mean, you don't believe me?" he asked angrily. "I was at work. Where else would I have been? You know very well how hard I work to pay for all this—" Craig gestured at their surroundings— "so please don't make snide remarks about whatever it is you've thought up that I'm doing."

Thomas laughed. "Okay. Sure," he said, daintily stepping around Craig and entering the kitchen. He threw out his soda can and turned to exit, but this time, Craig was leaning in the doorframe, leaving no space for Thomas to depart. "Please move," he said icily.

"How about no," Craig said, perhaps somewhat childishly."Why don't you explain to me where you _think_ I've been?"

"Oh, I don't know," Thomas retorted. "Maybe out with your _other_ blonde?"

Craig froze. "What?"

Rolling his eyes, Thomas crossed his arms, mimicking Craig. "One wasn't enough, huh?"

"The hell are you talking about."

"Uh. Tweek? You do realize I'm not stupid, right? SHIT!"

"What _about_ Tweek?"

More angry now than he thought he was going to be, Thomas stood his ground. "Well, I thought he was the type of guy who would respect that you were married and, therefore, off-limits. But then again, maybe he did at first. I know how you are about getting your way."

"Tweek hasn't done _anything_ wrong!" Craig hissed, clenching his fists.

"Uh. Actually? Hooking up with you is pretty damn wrong by my book. And pretty much everyone else's, by the way. I suppose you haven't noticed how none of your friends have been answering your calls. Except Tweek, I suppose."

"What exactly are you accusing me of here?"

Thomas sighed impatiently. "Obviously I'm accusing you of having an affair, you fucking retard. By the way, I didn't realize that a 'hockey game with the guys' meant you playing tonsil hockey with that spaz."

"I'm not cheating!" Craig yelled, stepping forward. "How could you say that? I've been working my ass off to make life great for you and this is how I am repaid? You assume I'm sleeping with one of my _best friends_? Thanks a lot!"

A moment of silence passed before Thomas began to clap. "You're a pretty convincing liar there, babe. That shit takes talent. Maybe you should've been a lawyer after all."

Craig's cheeks flushed in anger. "Why are you so convinced I'm lying? I'm not! I honestly did have a meeting today, and any other day that I said I had one. I swore I wouldn't lie to you when we fucking _got married_, and I haven't broken that promise. Why can't you just accept what I'm telling you and let this go?"

"Because you're obviously lying! If you're being honest, why the hell did I get out of the shower two weeks ago only to find a message on the answering machine from a drunken Tweek, saying how much he loved you and that '_last night was the best night of my life_?'"

Eyes widening, Craig whispered, "What? What day was that?"

"Thursday. It was a fucking Thursday, not that it even matters. And with the don't-wait-up calls, and the mismatching timeframes, and the fact that every time you go out with your friends—our friends, actually, although I'm rarely invited—Tweek is there? You were together in high school, Craig. You never bothered to tell me about it, but I found out. And you know what? I'm done with this. I'm done with you and your lies, and your anger issues, and your teenage behaviour. I don't need it, I can't take it—my fucking Tourette's is coming back, you know I can't work like that—and I'm not going to settle for it. Kyle's got a friend who's a divorce lawyer, and I'm calling him tomorrow. But for now, you can get the fuck out of here."

"Wait…Thomas. No! I'm not a cheater! I love you, I don't want to get divorced," Craig pleaded, moving to grab his husband's arms. He desperately stared into Thomas's eyes and said, "I swear to you right now that I have never cheated on you in my entire life. And I never will if you just let me—"

But Thomas was shaking his head. "I can't believe you're lying straight to my face. Get out."

After another half-hour's worth of begging, Craig finally found himself walking the streets of South Park. He knew where he was going. He just wished the walk was shorter so he wouldn't have time to think.

The bell above the door jingled as he stepped into the nearly-deserted coffee shop. A few self-proclaimed indie kids trying to look indifferent littered the corner, but other than them, no one was around besides Craig and the bored blonde barista. "Hey!" Tweek called as Craig paused in the doorway. "What are you doing h-here?" He twitched. "Your apartment building didn't catch on fire, did it?"

"No," Craig said, ignoring the gawks of the hipsters and striding forward to lean his elbows on the counter, folding his arms on top of them. "Wouldn't matter if it did now, because I just got kicked out."

"GAH! Why?"

Craig surveyed Tweek a moment before sighing. "Thomas thought I was cheating on him. With you."

Tweek began to shiver nervously at this as he set a cup of coffee—black, the way Craig liked—on the counter. "Is that why no one will talk to me anymore? I thought I had leprosy or herpes or something and I was going crazy so I couldn't see any of the physical symptoms and I actually was going to schedule a doctor's appointment tomorrow—"

"Shut up," Craig said gruffly, picking up his coffee and having a sip. "I got kicked out. For real, he's gonna divorce me. I don't know what to do."

"Ack!" Tweek cried, cowering under Craig's sullen gaze. "Do you want me to try to talk to him? I don't…I don't think he'd believe me."

"Nah, he wouldn't." With another sip of coffee, Craig said, "He mentioned a voicemail from you from the night after I introduced you to that Christophe guy at the bar. Apparently you were drunk and saying you loved me and something about '_last night_…'"

"Oh," Tweek blushed. "Sorry. I don't remember sending that…You know how I get. When I d-drink. Everyone's always saying I'm going to get raped one of these days. It's probably true. Some raper is going to appear out of nowhere and he'll just hand me a beer and I'll take it and immediately trust him because I love alcohol and then I'll be kissing ass because I'm hoping he'll buy me another drink and then he'll just go rape me in an alley somewhere and in the morning I'll be none the fucking wiser and—"

Grunting to shut Tweek up, Craig took a long gulp of his beverage. "The word is 'rapist,' and that isn't going to happen because I don't let you drink by yourself. But seriously—don't you care that I just ruined my fucking life?"

Tweek's face went pink again. "I guess I kind of ruined it. GAH! Sorry. I really am sorry, Craig. I just don't know what to do here." He quickly began to quake again. "It's too much pressure! I don't know how to solve your marriage problems! I'm never a help with anything! Ack!"

"Yeah, you are," Craig said, amused despite himself. "Even though I'm fucking miserable, you're making me laugh." He let himself snicker a bit at Tweek's bewildered (and terrified) expression. "You know what? Maybe I _should_ have been cheating. Thomas was always such a bitch."

Tweek rolled his eyes a little with a nervous smile. "You're a bitch, too."

"I know. There can't be two in one relationship." Craig finished off his coffee and narrowed his eyes at the scene kids, who were watching them closely. "I've been wasting my time."

"You love him, though," Tweek said, biting his lip once he'd noticed the kids' eyes were glued to his back.

"Loved. If he can't trust me and won't listen to me, then I guess we're just not right for each other, you know?"

"Uh. No."

Craig's brow furrowed. "It's not like you've never had a boyfriend before."

Tweek nervously pulled at the collar of his uniform black polo. "Well, yeah, but, uh…" He guiltily trailed off, and Craig realized what he was getting at.

"Oops. I forgot that all your relationships have been pretty much perfect, and you're the one who _dumps_."

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize for being perfect."

Again twitching, Tweek cleared his throat uncertainly. "Obviously I'm not," he said in discomfort. "I'm twitchy and paranoid and I just ruined someone's marriage. I kind of suck."

"You really don't."

It took a moment for them to realize they were kissing, and a few seconds later, Tweek pulled away. "Fuck," he said, slamming his head on the counter. "I'm freaking terrible, man!"

Craig simply laughed. "Hey, I'm a free man now. You tell Token nothing was happening, I'll tell Kenny, I'll get divorced, and a couple months from now we can be official." He paused. "If you want."

"Um…" Tweek looked around uneasily before fixing his eyes on Craig once more. "Well, yeah."

"Excellent," said Craig. He turned, ready to leave. "Well, I'll be off then. Gotta go find Ken, I can crash with him tonight—"

"Wait!" Tweek cried. He ran his fingers anxiously through his mess of blonde hair as he asked, "…But what do we do until then?"

"Until then?" Craig said lightly, stepping up to the counter again. He kissed Tweek quickly, catching him off guard, then put a finger up to his lips. "Shhh." With that, he swiftly exited, his step considerably bouncier than when he had walked in.

"Dude."

Tweek's head swiveled to look at the beanie-headed youths in the corner behind him. "What?" he asked sourly. (He was pretty tired of their constant presence from eight PM until closing every night.)

"I am _so_ writing a song about this," said a dude in no-longer-ironic grandma glasses.

To this, Tweek could only scowl. "We're closed."

**AN: fuck endings, it's 5am. oh btw if this applies to you I have chapter three of Want written, I just need to edit it and get a start on chapter four before I can release it.**

**please review, and stick around! if you don't like Cromas (fuck, I don't, I was glad my first word was adultery), that's cool, because you'll probably never see anything of it again in this entire collection. this idea is intended to challenge me—working with pairings I don't like or am unfamiliar with, trying to improve my writing along the way. if you didn't figure it out, the first letter was A for Adultery. just this once, I'll let you know—the next pairing is Style and the theme is B for Belittling. =) dunno when it'll be written/released though.**

**srsly, review I worked hard-hope y'all are cool-Essex Cole**


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